While the cat's away this mouse will play! Yes, The Mother has been away for more than a week now and I am happily home alone.

Happily? Well, let's just say it's nice to be living in a smoke-free zone again and wonderful to sink into a bath full of bubbles knowing there'll be no tapping on the bathroom door ten minutes later and a voice requesting immediate admission.

(Note to self: Must really consider construction of second lavatory when I can find suitable space).

Just in case I might fall into bad habits in her absence, as I obviously had before she moved in, The Mother left me with a list of reminders to reinforce her verbal instructions.

"Remember to put fabric softener in the washing machine otherwise the towels will feel like sandpaper," she had written, "and do not put your black socks in with my blue nightdress."

There was advice about defrosting the fridge, cleaning the cooker and vacuuming under the beds; all jobs that certainly hadn't figured on my agenda.

Finally there were some personal requests: Could I please take her camel coat to be dry-cleaned (followed by several words I couldn't make out), return some overdue library books I'd find in her room and change her bed.

Determined not to be found wanting, I took her coat to the dry-cleaners the day after she left and returned several library books I found on her bedside cabinet. I changed her bed and also decided to take down her favourite bedroom curtains and pop them in the wash as well.

I rang her midweek. "Everything's under control captain," I told her. "Your coat will be ready by the weekend, the library books are returned - no fines to pay there - and not only have I changed your bed, I've also washed your curtains."

"Oh, that was kind," she said. There was a pause, then she asked: "What temperature did you wash them at?"

"Can't remember," I said, suddenly feeling slightly apprehensive. "Why?"

"Because they should never be washed at more than 30C, otherwise they could shrink," she replied.

I knew without checking the temperature I'd chosen was far more than 30C. I glanced nervously at the washing machine. 60C Hot Wash said the instructions above its door.

At the weekend, I ironed and hung The Mother's curtains in her room. They did look wonderfully clean, if you could overlook the fact they no longer met in the middle and were an inch short.

I also collected her coat from the dry-cleaners. Two of the buttons were missing.

The Mother and I spoke again on Sunday, when I told her about the coat.

"But I reminded you to remove the buttons, some of them were loose. Didn't you read my note?" she asked.

So, that's what those words I couldn't decipher had said.

"Well at least I've done one thing right and returned those books on your bedside cabinet," I muttered.

The Mother's voice became quite agitated. "No, not the books on there - I haven't even started those and I was really looking forward to reading them. The ones that had to go back were on my dressing table.

"It was all in my note. I just knew you hadn't read it!"

I had of course, I'd just not read all of it. Not the instructions that continued on the other side of the paper.

"Bet you can't wait to return," I said.